Salvation
by Hawkeye4077
Summary: They found her, rescued her... Now all they need to do is save her. Post-Aliyah/Truth or Consequences. AU/missing scenes in Ziva's recovery after her time in Somalia.
1. Part 1

**A/N: So we're all counting down the days, hours, minutes _and_ seconds until the season 7 premiere begins and this idea just hit me yesterday morning just before I went off to school and then work. (Thankfully, I didn't forget my idea xD). From here on in there are spoilers for _Aliyah_, the season 6 finale. **

**Ziva has been rescued (I'm not going to speculate over who it was that did the rescuing although Tony was obviously involved, and I hope Gibbs was too) and is back in the US. However, the torture she endured in Somalia has left her traumatised and trusting no one. Gibbs visits her in hospital a few days after her return.**

**Disclaimer: I do _not_ own NCIS... If I did, well, let's just say Gibbs and Tony would have been in for one hell of a rough ride. ;P Also, if DPB objects to me using his characters and the show's scenario please don't sue. I certainly don't have anything worth suing for... *sigh*  
**

* * *

Slowly and as quietly as he could, Gibbs slid open the glass door to Ziva's hospital room then stepped inside, leaving the door open fully. Her eyes, swollen and bruised, looked to be shut, but Gibbs knew better. Whether it was the way her breathing quickened at the sound of footsteps or the way her body tensed at the slight scraping of metal, Gibbs just _knew_. Her eyes stayed shut as he walked unhurriedly across the room, keeping his movements slow and obvious and raising his hands, palms up, so that she could see them if she chose to look. It was dark in the room, completely dark – the nurses obviously thought it would be better for a woman who had been held and tortured in a darkened room to sleep in the dark, no chance Ziva would wake up before sunrise, obviously – but Gibbs did not want to startle Ziva so he left the lights off. His presence was probably frightening her enough as it was. Instead, the marine purposefully ambled over to the chair sitting at the window and gently lowered himself into it. He sat and waited for Ziva to acknowledge his presence, to make some sign that she was not going to either bolt out the door or try and kill him when he came closer. He had intentionally sat on Ziva's left so that she would feel less threatened by his presence – she could easily escape through the open door without Gibbs being able to stop her.

Gibbs, as an experienced marine, had fought in combat and seen the terrors of war first-hand. He had witnessed the return of hostage retrieval squads and those they had freed, emaciated and scared. He had heard stories of the cramped, squalid conditions they had been held in, and understood why those men acted like deer caught in car headlights whenever there was a loud noise or they entered an enclosed space. Watching Ziva, her muscles tensed and wide-awake even though her eyes still remained shut, Gibbs saw exactly the same thing in the young woman.

He waited. To him, there was nothing more important than helping the Israeli recover from her terrible ordeal. He could not offer the comfort of saying that everything would go back to the way it was but he could make sure Ziva knew that he was there, the _team_ was there and would help in any way they could.

A short hiss broke Gibbs from his musings and he had to fight to stay in his seat rather than rush to Ziva's side. She was in pain but the thought of having drugs in her system frightened her: she had been without control of what happened to her for far too long to allow anyone near her with a needle full of some unknown medication. Seething at the thought of a member of his team being tortured, Gibbs watched silently as Ziva blinked open her eyes and groaned, shifting restlessly as the pain in her damaged ribs increased. The fact that a father could allow this to happen to his own daughter almost produced a growl from Gibbs, but he managed to suppress it, barely. He could feel his anger building with every groan from Ziva and wished he could comfort her like he had Kelly when she was ill or had a nightmare.

As a brisk curse in Hebrew escaped Ziva's cracked lips, Gibbs threw caution to the wind and, in two strides, was at her bedside, a hand hovering indecisively over her bruised forearm. Mentally, he ran through all the ways he could settle her, each time coming up with an outcome in which he was lying painfully immobilised on the floor and Ziva was nowhere to be seen. Finally, he opted for the one thing that would give him time to escape Ziva's flailing limbs. He bent as close to her ear as he dared and then softly whispered, "Ziva."

Gibbs did his best to avoid sounding threatening, but nonetheless Ziva's eyes flew open in panic and she rolled quickly off the bed, surprisingly agile despite her serious injuries. Rapidly backing off, Gibbs raised his hands and tried to act as non-threateningly as possible. When his back hit the cold concrete wall, Gibbs knew there could only be one of two outcomes after this: either Ziva ran and left Gibbs standing stunned against the wall; or she attacked him, more than likely resulting in serious injury for Gibbs despite his marine training – Ziva's fight-or-flight instinct coupled with her Mossad training was a highly dangerous combination, and Gibbs would rather not be on the receiving end of it. When she took a step towards him, Gibbs knew he was in trouble.

Step by jerky step, Ziva advanced, her eyes flitting between objects in the room but never stopping on Gibbs. For the first time in four years, Gibbs was afraid of the Mossad officer. He had never seen her so wild and desperate. She was running on fumes of fumes and the most basic of instincts – kill or be killed.

Gibbs was slightly confused by her slow advance before realising that she knew he was cornered and if she wanted to be safe for longer than a few minutes she would need to wound her attacker. Keeping his tone neutral and his voice low, Gibbs tried to break through the haze of panic set in Ziva's mind. "Ziva, it's alright..." The slightest twitch of his right hand, however, sent the advancing assassin sprinting from the room, ignoring the concerned shouts of nurses. As she brushed clumsily past a tall metal shelving unit and it toppled to the floor, the deafening crash echoing through the long hall, Ziva's fear grew. She skidded to a halt in front of a door and, ignoring the 'No Unauthorised Access' sign, yanked it open, stumbling inside and slamming it shut behind her. Gibbs was close behind her and immediately wrenched the door open, paying no attention to the protests from nearby nurses. As he stepped inside, he winced. Ziva was cowering in a corner, desperately trying to find a way out as Gibbs took short steps towards her with his hands once again raised. This was no holds barred terror. Plain and simple.

With each step Gibbs took, he gently reassured her that he was not going to hurt her, whilst mentally berating himself for alarming her.

_There was nothing else you could do, Jethro!_

Another step and Gibbs was within ten feet of her. "I'm not going to hurt you, Ziva."

_You could've called a nurse, gotten them to give her a sedative!_

He stopped his advance, waiting for any reaction from the spooked woman.

_And that wouldn't have made it worse?_

Ziva's gaze momentarily left Gibbs and he took another few steps towards her. He was almost within her reach now but he did not care. He wanted to help her, and that was something he could not do if she did not trust him. Gibbs was about to take another step when an angry doctor stormed in – clearly he objected to patients invading the room. Gibbs turned to yell at the man only to see the doctor's eyes widen and then intense pain erupted across Gibbs' lower back and a thin, battered arm snaked round his neck, pulling him tight against Ziva's body. She twisted his right arm behind his back, pushing it painfully high but not dislocating or breaking it. Only then, when his life really was in Ziva's hands, did Gibbs realise the extent of her malnutrition. There was barely anything covering her ribs and her arms were solely muscle, some had atrophied but there was still a lot of it, enough to snap Gibbs' neck in an instant, anyway.

Gasping for breath and trying to suppress the pain in his back, Gibbs did not struggle. Instead, he kept whispering soothingly to the woman, hoping that it would bring her to her senses or at least make her believe him. The doctor, not one that Gibbs recognised, advanced in much the same way as Gibbs had only without the reassurances and raised hands. There was nothing Gibbs could do to deter him and the doctor – Doctor Jamieson: he was so close, Gibbs could read his nametag – continued forward. Ziva, needing some way to subdue Gibbs so she could deal with the doctor, twisted her former boss around, the shock on his face barely registering, and slammed a fist into his chest, bringing her knee up sharply to connect with his nose as he bent double. But for a pained grunt, Gibbs did not react – he needed Ziva to trust him not fear him. However, when Dr. Jamieson blocked Ziva's path, bellowing to the nurses milling around the door, Gibbs was forced to do something. He could see that Ziva still did not believe she was safe and was considering removing the physician from her path rather swiftly and most likely violently. Instinctively and ignoring the blood pouring from his nose and running into his mouth, Gibbs took two strides and stepped between the doctor and Ziva. "Ziva, stop. You're safe now. No one is going to hurt you here." She took another step, and Gibbs was sure he was about to feel a hell of a lot more pain. Her legs were shaking and her breathing was alarmingly laboured and so, more afraid for his agent's well-being than his own, Gibbs stepped closer and added in a whisper but with complete conviction, "I promise."

* * *

If someone had been videoing the entire affair, they would easily, and without a doubt, be able to tell when exactly Ziva believed Gibbs just from her facial expression. As it was, her legs buckled under her and Gibbs barely had time to catch her, supporting her weight as she collapsed into his embrace and wept, her hot tears seeping through the thin material of his shirt. Jamieson, after being waved away by Gibbs as he tried to examine Ziva, handed Gibbs a wad of tissues, which the marine pressed gratefully to his bleeding nose. Slowly, Gibbs sank to the floor, pulling Ziva down with him to sit against the wall. His back and nose ached and there was the tell-tale throbbing of broken ribs in his chest, but Gibbs did not care. He stroked Ziva's sweat-slicked hair, still whispering supportively to her.

Finally, she stopped crying and for the first time since they had rescued her, looked at him. "Gibbs..." He had expected her to object to the arm wrapped around her shoulder or the hand smoothing her brown hair, but in some ways, the single acknowledgement was better – the panic of earlier was gone and Ziva seemed to trust him enough to let her guard down. It brought back memories of Gibbs' time spent comforting Abby in an elevator when her crazy ex-boyfriend was stalking her. Looking down at Ziva, Gibbs smiled cautiously. "You're going to be OK, Ziva." The weak smile she offered in return was good enough for Gibbs and they settled into companionable silence.

* * *

**A/N: :] Can't believe I managed to write this in about 3 hours (may not sound very good, but considering it took me 3 _weeks_ to write _Koshmar_, I think that's pretty good!)**.

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and feedback is appreciated, especially constructive criticism. Also, if Ziva's reactions seem a bit weird, I'd like to know what should have happened... maybe I'll do a Tony one... hmmm...*lightbulb appears overhead* Oh wait... I've got far too many ideas already...  
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	2. Part 2

**A/N: So quite a few people asked if I would be continuing this and after a long debate (OK it was a _really_ short one) with myself, I decided that yes, I will write another chapter. However, this really is the last part. *sigh* really fallen behind with my uni application (got 3 weeks to finish it and write my personal statement) but in other, more positive news... SEASON 7!! :D**

**It's mostly meant to be Gibbs/Ziva father/daughter but somehow Tony managed to creep in and steal some action...  
**

**Thanks to all the reviewers for their encouragement and suggestions.  
**

* * *

_Facing back the way they had come, Gibbs listened to the metallic scraping of a latch being pulled back. He almost turned around at his fellow agent's gasp as the doors swung open – a solitary shadow cast against the far wall stopping him and setting him on full alert, weapon raised and his finger pulling the trigger back to first pressure. As he stood tensely staring down the short corridor, Gibbs barely registered the fact that his agent had neither moved from the doorway nor told him if it was clear._

_Just as the shadow looked to be about to turn the corner, it doubled back, and Gibbs breathed a deep sigh of relief – he was almost out of ammunition and __really __did not want to engage in a gun fight with however many terrorists were left in the expansive complex. He turned to the man behind him but could not see past him. "DiNozzo!" Gibbs hissed, mindful of alerting any other guards in the area to their presence, when Tony showed no signs of moving forwards. Still Tony stood there, staring into the darkened room, completely oblivious to Gibbs' impatient growls. A hard shove brought Tony back to awareness and he immediately sprang into action, entering the room, turning 360 degrees before announcing loudly that it was 'All clear!' Gibbs watched with some concern as his senior field agent's attention snapped back to the chair in the centre, a battered prisoner slumped over on it. As Gibbs followed behind Tony, his eyes glanced round the room, instinctively double-checking what he had been told – rule three had saved a case more times than he cared to remember and despite Tony's undeniable aptitude, Gibbs had to do it. When he was sure they were alone but for the figure in the centre, Gibbs went back to covering the only escape route from the cell._

_Standing at the entrance to each of the cells the pair had previously checked, the smell had barely overpowered the reek of stale sweat, but this – the metallic tang of blood barely masked by the sickening stench of human excrement – was something else, something infinitely worse and more nauseating than any smell Gibbs could recall. It was a wonder to the marine that DiNozzo was still in the cell._

_Tony cautiously stepped forward, stopping when he was only a foot from the prisoner that occupied the chair. They had already checked four out of however many cells there were and were yet to find Ziva. He knelt down, making sure he avoided a small pool of blood that had gathered, and looked into the captive's bruised and bloodied face. It took his brain all of two seconds to register what he was seeing and, then it was as if someone had fired a gun. He shot to his feet and violently recoiled from the hunched-over figure. Nausea threatened to overwhelm Tony as he pushed past Gibbs and staggered out of the room, collapsing to his knees and immediately beginning to throw up._

_Gibbs, still covering his agent as he emptied the contents of his stomach (which was not much, to be honest, given their spell of imprisonment), backed further into the room and knelt next to the chair. He glanced at the battered face, barely taking in the swollen eye and nasty cuts that littered it, before quickly returning his gaze to the corridor. Gibbs had not noticed any chest movement that would indicate life, but something about the person tied to that chair was bothering him. It could have been that they were female or that, despite the injuries, she bore a striking to Mossad Officer Ziva David. He looked again, longer this time, giving his mind time to process the sight. Suddenly, his gut clenched and he had to shake his head to clear his vision. It could not be. He glanced again, refusing to believe what his brain was telling him. "Aw hell... Ziva?" He pressed his fingers to her neck, willing there to be a pulse despite the rational part of him screaming at him that she was cold, too cold and that there was a worrying lack of chest movement or response to touch._

_Closing his eyes, Gibbs swore coarsely then staggered to his feet. The sound of everything else had been blocked out but now, as he looked forlornly into his senior field agent's eyes, it all came back in a rush. Tony took one step forward, his nausea forgotten, desperately searching Gibbs' face for something. There was no need to say anything, the two men had worked together for eight years and could easily read each other's body language, but still Gibbs needed to say something – if only to convince himself it was true. "I'm sorry, Tony... She's—"_

_

* * *

_

"Ziva!"

Gibbs woke suddenly, wincing as his ribs protested at the abrupt movement. He scrubbed harshly at his face with his free hand, the other loosely holding a cold, half-empty coffee cup. He was vaguely aware of being watched and he looked up, staring directly into a concerned woman's eyes. "Sir, are you alright?" She walked towards him as he stood and turned away, completely ignoring her question. "Sir?" Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder, only to have it immediately shrugged off.

"I'm fine." The marine grunted, finally remembering that he was in a hospital, the same hospital as Ziva. In fact, he had been sitting outside her room when he drifted off, a combination of exhaustion and pain facilitating the numbing pull of sleep. Moving stiffly, Gibbs stood at the glass door and watched as, sitting in the sole chair by the window, she stared out at the hospital grounds. Her mind was elsewhere, however. Grimacing, as she shifted in the chair, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort in her bruised body, Gibbs wanted to comfort her, to stop the nightmares – both in reality and when she slept – but there was almost nothing he could do.

Since the first time she had bolted then attacked Gibbs, Ziva refused to allow him near her – possibly through fear of what she would do to him. Nonetheless, Gibbs had steadfastly refused to stop visiting. In his eyes, she was still one of his agents (not _the_ best but pretty damn close). He knew from past experience that she was an exceptionally early-riser – and that had not changed, only now she woke early to escape the terror of reliving her torture every night – and so, hours before he needed to be at work, Gibbs would come here and sit, yet again waiting for her to initiate communication. Some days, when Ziva had woken disorientated and suspicious of everyone and everything, Gibbs would sit quietly for hours then leave without uttering a word but to say goodbye – for once deciding not to pressure his agent into speaking. She would speak when she was ready, after all – she needed to know she could trust someone again first.

Feeling Gibbs' intense gaze on her, Ziva twisted painfully in the chair and nodded almost imperceptibly to him. He smiled warmly back at her and slowly made his way into the room, still using all the techniques he had learned as a young marine watching hostages return from captivity: she might have acknowledged his presence and allowed him to enter but she still got easily spooked if anyone made sudden, unwanted movements. Gibbs stopped when he reached the foot of her bed, waiting for her to allow him closer. When it became obvious that she was not ready, Gibbs slowly made his way to the edge of the bed and sat down; leaving plenty of space between him and the door so that Ziva would again feel that she had an escape opportunity.

Many of their early morning meetings had begun exactly the same way but the outcome was invariably different each time. The silence growing, Gibbs noticed there were a few personal items on the bedside table but he resisted the urge to investigate the photos – rifling through her stuff was definitely not the way to get her to trust him. He could wait, he _would _wait. Trust would come in time.

* * *

There was a soft cough at the door which made Ziva jump and Gibbs turn to glare angrily at whomever it was that stood there. His glare softened slightly when he saw Tony leaning calmly against the metal frame, his hands up in a gesture of peace. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs noticed Ziva relax infinitesimally.

_She still trusts him... More than she thinks... But not enough.  
_

She did not, however, indicate that he could come in, and Gibbs took it upon himself to greet the younger agent, standing gingerly and pushing Tony backwards out of the room. He had barely closed the door when Tony started to speak. "How is she, boss?" The desperate edge to Tony's voice easily conveyed how concerned he was about Ziva. Although they had been back for weeks, this was the first time Tony had seen his partner awake and, if he was honest, her jumpiness scared him. "She's angry, DiNozzo... And not just at you. She's angry at me, Vance... Hell, she's angry at her father!" Gibbs pulled Tony further away to prevent their raised voices being overheard. "She has every right to be! We all screwed up, DiNozzo, and now we're going to have to wait until she's ready to trust us again." Dejectedly, Tony nodded. He knew how it felt to be betrayed, but Ziva's hurt went far beyond that.

"Can I see her?" Gibbs hesitated, glancing between his two agents. Tony had not seen Gibbs this protective since Kate's death. He still was not used to it.

"Remember what I told you?" Gibbs asked softly, understanding Tony's need to talk things through with the Israeli, but putting Ziva's health and mental stability above all else. At Tony's insistent nod, Gibbs led him back into the room, both agents taking care to move non-threateningly.

When they stopped at the foot of the bed, Gibbs arm across Tony's chest to prevent him moving further, the marine gently called Ziva's name. She had been looking away but he knew she was aware of where they were exactly. She stared at Tony, not even bothering to conceal her hostility towards her partner. The oppressive silence that settled over the trio did nothing to calm Gibbs' churning gut but still he remained silent, sticking to his belief that she would speak when ready.

Ziva's long sigh was the first thing to break the silence as she also broke the staring contest with Tony. "You were right, Tony." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the rushing in Tony's ears. Speechless for a moment, Tony stood stock still and studied Ziva's face, trying to work out what she was getting at. Relieved as he saw the pained look in her eyes disappear, Tony waited for Ziva to look at him again, locking his eyes with hers. "I wish I wasn't, Ziva. I wish I wasn't." There was something about Ziva's expression that Tony thought, ever since the Rivkin debacle, would never return, but here it was once again, seriously diluted but there nonetheless: Trust.

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**A/N: Well there you go. Reviews are especially welcome - I'm really not sure what I'm doing, writing all these one/two-shots when all my previous fics and most of my subsequent ones will be multichapters, and it seemed really odd to write something so short...**


	3. Part 3

**A/N: OK , this really _is_ the last** **chapter I'm going to add to this. Honest.**

**Little bit of borrowed dialogue from _Truth or Consequences _but of course everything still belongs to CBS and those lucky people that actually own NCIS... *sigh***

* * *

Gibbs looked up, his eyes falling on the still form standing silhouetted in the basement doorway, and a slow smile pulled at the corners of his lips. There was only one person he knew that carried themselves as if there were a threat around every corner, in every dark recess, behind every door. There was only one person on his team that was still that thin after their skirmish into the Sahara desert. Another small smile graced Gibbs' face as he remembered a conversation with DiNozzo...

_You know, in Arabic the word for desert is 'Sahara'... So Sahara desert is actually Desert desert... Lot of sand..._

The sanding blocked slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor with the paper fluttering close behind it. He swore softly and then bent down to pick it up, his back grateful for an excuse to stretch out of its hunched position. The figure took one tentative step down into the gloominess, making the wood creak, but still Gibbs did not acknowledge the visitor, instead grabbing the nearest rag and carefully covering the lump of wood he had been working on.

"_Always let the frightened animal come to you, Leroy. Do it on their terms; don't force the action..."_ His father's words of wisdom pushed through Gibbs' thoughts, fighting their way to the fore, capturing his attention. Gibbs drained the mason jar of Bourbon then turned to face his late-night visitor.

After another moment of silence with the silhouette standing stock-still on the stairs, there was a series of creaks and then she stopped, flicking the light switch and standing on the concrete floor, her fear barely concealed behind her feigned confidence and darting, astute eyes. "I hope I am not... intruding, Gibbs." Her voice was so quiet, so _timid_ – her usual blunt self-belief gone – that Gibbs looked up at her in surprise, his eyebrows climbing. "_Intruding_?" With a small shake of his head, the Marine added, "No, Ziva, you're not." He stepped away from the bench and rolled his shoulders with a groan. "It's just— I was— the light—" The words tumbled hurriedly from Ziva's mouth and only clamping her hand over it stopped the stream of nervous babble. Gibbs took a couple of steps towards her but halted instantly when she flinched away, erecting old barriers she thought had been stripped away from her in that desert camp. Gibbs looked thoughtful for a moment then smiled kindly as if there had been no reaction. "You're more than welcome to stay here, Ziva... If that's what you want and feel comfortable—" A raised hand stopped Gibbs in the middle of this rare invitation into his home. Surprised, he stared at the pale arm, scarred and emaciated – a little of her muscle tone had been built up in the weeks she spent in hospital but it still was not the same. "Gibbs, I would not wish to burden you with my... problems... If I stay, neither of us will get much sleep." At Gibbs' raised eyebrow, Ziva scowled, which only made his amusement greater. "I suffer _siyút_... nightmares, as you would say..." she continued, her eyes boring holes deep into the concrete flooring.

Slowly, so as not to spook her, Gibbs stepped closer and placed a calloused finger under her chin, gently lifting it until she looked at him. He was surprised that she had not recoiled or attacked him, but she still looked guarded and frightened. Instead of closing off his emotions, Gibbs dropped his own mental barriers, letting Ziva read him. "You're not the only one, Ziva..." Blushing slightly – a new side to the Mossad assassin – Ziva nodded as though she understood, as if she had known since the first time they met, in fact. "Kelly... Shannon..." It was a hesitant question, gently teasing the conversation away from her own frailties, but Gibbs met it head on, his voice steady and authoritative, "No. You, Ziva. Ever since we left you in Israel." He stopped and took a sudden, deep breath, puffing it out slowly as he thought of what next to say, knowing exactly where this was leading. "If I had chosen you over DiNozzo, you would never—"

"Gibbs. Stop. Do not second-guess your decision, it is not—" Gibbs opened his mouth to speak again but Ziva raised a hand, keeping him quiet. "When you left me in Israel I felt... betrayed... But if you had not left me in Israel, left me with my father, I would not have learnt who I could trust... and who I could not," Ziva continued, stepping away from Gibbs and perching on the wooden stairs, her elbows resting heavily on her knees as she stared at the floor. "I know that you did what was best, for the team. I understand that _now._" Briefly looking up from the floor, Ziva studied Gibbs' face. He looked calm, relieved even, standing there in his basement, but did not say anything. Stiffly, Ziva stood and made to walk up the steps, understanding that Gibbs would most likely want to be alone to process everything she had told him. "I will go..."

Her foot was on the next step when his voice called her back. "Ziva, my offer still stands." Momentarily, Ziva was confused but then she remembered the rest of their conversation. "It's a long drive back to the lodge," he offered gruffly, with a small, defensive shrug. Ziva nodded gratefully, conceding that the Marine was right – as usual – and, taking a deep, calming breath, stepped out of the way, allowing Gibbs to warily brush past her on his way up the stairs. Despite all her 'positive thinking', Ziva's breath hitched as he passed her and she froze, resisting the urge to push her father-figure away from her. Noticing her discomfort, Gibbs chose to ignore it completely and carried on striding up the steps. He reached the top step, turned back to smile reassuringly at the young woman standing tensely at the bottom, and asked, "Coffee?"

Her fear quashed by Gibbs' attempt at normality, Ziva nodded once then followed behind him. "Coffee."

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**A/N: Thanks for sticking with me through these and I hope you enjoyed them. Please leave a review and give me some feedback on this.  
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**For those of you waiting for my next multi-chapter, I promise I'm writing it at the moment. It's just that schoolwork has been catching up with me lately and... /continues rant for a _long_ time  
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